


Up Shit Creek Without a Paddle

by eratothemuse



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Daryl being conflicted and slightly self-loathing while he jerks off, F/M, Masturbating, NSFW, Oral, Oral Sex, Smut, not safe for work, unprotected sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-17 06:21:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16969332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eratothemuse/pseuds/eratothemuse
Summary: Daryl would do anything for Rick. The man had done more for him than his own family had. The kind of loyalty stemming from that ran deep inside him… So he probably shouldn’t be doing this right now with you on his mind, so quickly after you and Rick have broken up. Especially since he knows for a fact that Rick still has feelings for you.





	1. Up Shit Creek

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to try to write masturbation mainly because I never have before and also slightly because Daryl Dixon getting himself off has been plaguing my poisoned mind for the last three days. I HAD TO ALRIGHT THATS THE ONLY EXPLANATION YOU GET. SORRY NOT SORRY. Constructive criticism is appreciated.  
> \- Meg <3 xx

The past month had been filled with Daryl having to watch Rick’s pining, consisting mostly of regretful looks thrown in your direction accompanied by the occasional stiff dialogue when you were together and had to speak on anything more than the walkers on the fence or the run for tomorrow. The breakup between you and Rick hadn’t been messy; more of a mutual understanding, really, that now wasn’t the best time for anything to happen with the two of you. That still didn’t stop the fact that it was painfully clear to Daryl that Rick still had feelings for you, despite how well he managed to hide it on a day-to-day basis.

Yeah, so Daryl really shouldn’t be having these thoughts about you right now. Curtain to his cell drawn as the prison echoed with soft snores and whispers signaling the rest of the group settled in for the night. And he sure as hell shouldn’t be getting off to the thought of you, the girl who had been labeled as  _Rick’s girl_  in his mind up until only a month ago and, really, he hadn’t managed to disassociate that label with you yet. But here he was, shifting on the bottom bunk of his bed as a candle flickered, his only light as he angrily tried to perform maintenance on his bow in an effort to relieve the wrong kind of frustration. He was only prolonging the inevitable at this point. He’d played this game with himself over more nights than tonight, and it always ended the same way, despite how much he hated himself afterwards.

It only served to make Daryl feel even shittier tonight since he’d come across Rick two days ago on Friday, in the boiler room of the prison, drunk off his ass. When he’d seen Daryl he had blubbered about regretting letting you go and Daryl didn’t think Rick remembered doing it, but he didn’t know for sure. It wasn’t as if he was going to bring it up any time soon. Daryl really didn’t want to have a talk about it, regardless of how much he respected the man.

The slap of bare feet draws Daryl from his thoughts and frustration of the growing hard-on in his pants, but he doesn’t stop meddling with his bow until the curtain to his cell draws back ever so slightly, revealing the object of his conflict and the real reason he hadn’t already taken hold of himself and stroked to completion. You poked your head in, same as you did every night, a smile coming to those lips that would plague him for the rest of the night despite your not knowing it.

“Night, Daryl,” you whisper, having come into a habit of giving him the little kindness since you had to walk past his cell to get to yours, and most nights the candlelight let you know he was still awake. There was a flicker in your eyes that said perhaps it was more than that, though Daryl hadn’t acted on it quite yet.

“Sleep tight,” he mumbles back in more of a grunt than any other more inviting sound, squinting at your features in the shadows that shift with each dance of the candle’s flame. A swift flick of his eyes is all it takes to catch enough of your body for his mind to go wild imagining the rest.

You were wearing those worn-to-hell cotton shorts that came up just high enough on your thighs to make him strain against his zipper, yet were still long enough for you to feel comfortable wearing them in front of any of the group’s members should you run into them during some nighttime run to the bathroom. The baggy t-shirt you wore covered most of you anyway, flowing around your body in a comfortable-looking sort of way. It was a favorite of yours judging by the holes that allowed bits and pieces of your skin to peek through. It had originally been some sort of bright blue color before it faded to a lighter, more tarnished hue that was stained in blood and dirt in a way that could never be removed. In the darkness of the night and that shirt, the supple curve of your breasts was modest enough that the fact you’d already ditched your bra went relatively unnoticed by most, but with the slight chill that was in the air tonight, the press of your nipples against the fabric didn’t go unnoticed by Daryl. They distorted the hazy proclamation of some concert from before the dead started walking in a way that made him want to push the fabric up your waist and over them in order to get a proper view.

Daryl’s face remained as stoic as usual, never betraying the traitorous thoughts in his mind any further than that single slip of his gaze down your body. It’s cut off when you let the curtain fall back to its original position, but Daryl watches until it stills, as if you were never there to begin with.

But you had been there, and Daryl had just checked you out. And now, as he finally gave in and set his crossbow to the side with more gentleness than he did most things, Daryl was stuck with the problem in his pants. The way his dick strained against the zipper was unbearable, and he couldn’t help but let out a quiet sigh when he released himself from them. The zipper came down with that usual  _zip_ , his belt buckle clanking sloppily against the button of the same pants he’d worn all day. He didn’t make any effort to remove any more than that. Just the room he needed to wrap his hand around his dick was all the room he made as he slouched down into the thin, prison-grade mattress that had bared witness to the last few nights he’d done this.

Daryl hisses as his hand comes into contact with the bare skin of his shaft. His hand was colder than he’d originally anticipated, but the chill made it feel foreign and allowed him for a moment to pretend it wasn’t his. That maybe, it could be yours touching him instead. As Daryl looks down at himself, he blinks, and with his eyes closed he can almost see it. Almost see you on that mattress, too, cramped and hunched over him as your fist closed around his dick in much the same way his was now. Only, your hands would be smoother and smaller than his own. He could imagine how it would feel as you whispered naughty things into his ear while getting him off, telling him to be quiet or Rick may hear… 

_You’re sick, ya’ know that right? Thinkin’ of Rick’s girl like this. Thinkin’ of your best friend’s girl’s fingers slippin’ down your dick. What would it feel like to have a piece of her? Dive right into that—_

Daryl stops himself from thinking further, because his own thoughts were starting to rival something he’d picture Merle saying if he had ever seen you. Closing his eyes once more, he lets himself not think, just feel. His thumb swirls over his tip, spreading the precum that had beaded there. Daryl’s lips part, his tongue darting out to wet them as his throat goes dry at the thought of your mouth and what you could do to him with it. Those pretty little lips wrapping around him, molding to his thrusts as he fucked your mouth with the aid of his grip in your hair. He feels himself twitch in his hand at the thought as he grips his base before starting the long, slow strokes that could draw out this fantasy for longer than he usually let himself dwell on it.

But  _Rick’s girl_  is all he can think of now, causing a surge of guilt to swell in his chest with each shameless stroke he gives himself. What’s worse is that Daryl knew, if he ever had the chance, he’d take it with you in an instant. Even knowing how Rick felt, Daryl would devour you the first chance he had. A monster, hidden in the darkness.

_Jesus, what if Rick found out?_

_What if you saw him like this?_

Daryl nearly cums right then and there at the thought of you stumbling in on his show. Of you slipping in, the curtain falling back behind you as you watch. The thought of you stopping his self-pleasure to finish him off yourself has him destroyed. He’s lost as his fist picks up its once languid pace, and he suddenly knows he’s not going to last as long as he had originally thought tonight.

He spills onto his hand in soft ringlets, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth as he swallows the single grunt that comes at the same time he does. Shoulders drooping as he gives himself a few more lazy tugs, Daryl already feels like an asshole. The familiar grip of self-loathing cages his lungs as he guiltily thinks back to Rick and all he’s done for him. To you, asleep in the cell beside his and none the wiser to the indecent way he’d thought of you tonight. But, worst of all was the fact that he knew he’d get over it. Find a way to justify it like he had the last several times he’d gotten off to the thought of you.

The extent of his cleanup consists of stripping himself of his pants and letting them get strewn haphazardly on the cement floor. He has the luxury of wiping his hand on his shirt before he strips that off, too, considering that the laundry was to be done tomorrow, anyway.

With the thought of you still in his mind and knowing it was going to take several minutes of wrestling with his guilt before he could actually fall asleep, Daryl leans over to blow out his candle in a single breath.

* * *

Facing you and Rick the next day was easy, and Daryl wasn’t sure if he was okay with that. He’d been devolving more and more into the mentality of some kind horny teenager he definitely was  _not_. Daryl had never been the kind of man to lose his senses over a pretty girl and the promise of pussy, but you made him want to give up the bout of disinterested celibacy he’d been on.

Every glance he sent your way seared the image of you into his mind. Daryl hated the fact that he wanted to do things to you. Mess you up in all kinds of ways that a guy like him shouldn’t have the pleasure to do to a girl like you. He didn’t want to be kind or gentle with any sort of understanding of a relationship to come from it. Daryl just wanted to make you come undone.

He was supposed to be watching the fence, for God’s sake, but all he could focus on was how you leant over the rail of the tower the two of you were atop thanks to your shift being today. You were wearing jeans that were so tight he could swear you were torturing him with them. Purposefully forcing his eyes to the curve of your ass. Yeah, it was almost like you wanted him to look at you the way he was while your head was turned in the opposite direction.

It was gloomy out, the air smelling of rain and that same slight stink of death that had seemed to consume the world at this point, but Daryl had gotten so used to it that he almost didn’t notice it anymore. Glenn and Maggie were on a run, kids could be heard playing on the ground below, and if Daryl looked to his left he would spot Rick out in the field, tending to the crops. Daryl almost felt guilty for wanting to strip you down right here in the tower with Rick within shouting distance.

Almost.

Tearing his eyes away from you, Daryl adjusts his bow on his shoulders with an annoyed blow of air at himself, knowing he had more important things to be worrying about than the twitch in his pants. You just wouldn’t stop clouding his mind and he could practically hear Merle’s laugh if he were to see just how messed up you’d gotten his little brother, without possibly even knowing it.

_You’re up shit creek now, ain’t ya’, boy?_


	2. Without a Paddle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl can no longer hold back. He finds out it just so happens he didn’t need to, regardless of the fact that the two of you are in a guard tower in broad daylight with Rick not far below.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 to Up Shit Creek because I needed more Daryl and I can’t stop thinking about this scenario. I just finished writing it and I swear I didn’t realize it was this long until I finished it and put it in my little word-counter thing and oh my god guys this is the longest thing I’ve ever written. I don’t know whether to feel proud or ashamed tbh…  
> \- Meg <3 xx

The guard tower was a box, plain and simple. It was never meant to be any more than that, after all, but it had been fixed up. Well, as much as it could be. As much as it  _needed_  to be. A mattress was thrown on the floor, scavenged blankets strewn unceremoniously over it for when the two people on shift decided to take turns for the night. Other than that, the room was relatively barren aside from the unlit lantern in the corner. There once had been windows, but most of them had been shot out. The ones that had survived were in pieces or littered with bullet holes; no longer proper windows, that’s for sure. Made there be no point to closing the door anymore.

It was the middle of the day, the sun sitting high in the sky as Daryl squinted towards the woods, watching as the occasional walker emerged only to limp slowly towards the gate. The people clearing it had their work cut out for them today, considering the walkers had been more frequent than usual lately. It was really only a matter of time before they had to reinforce the fence some more. There was always work to be done and things to worry about. Even though the prison walls had provided them with some kind of life, fact of the matter was that things would never go back to the way they were before the outbreak.  _This_  was their normal now.

But there Daryl was with what felt like the hardest job he’d had all day: trying to ignore the fact that you had shed some layers in the Georgia heat.

_Watch the fence. Watch the fence. Watch the damn fence, Daryl._

Easier said than done, especially with that  _23 Days Since Last Incident_  poster set up in Beth’s room, reminding everyone how peaceful the last 23 days had been. Well, peaceful as in everyone was surviving, for now. Fact was, boredom had set in and here was Daryl, wishing he was on some run or doing something else besides sitting in this tower with you on shift. Anything that would get his mind off of the way your ass looked in those jeans and the way the tank top that had been hidden under the button-up you’d ditched now hung low on your breasts. The button-up swaying in the breeze from where it was hung over the railing beside you.

Daryl was frustrated. Sexually. And that was quickly turning to annoyance the more he tried to watch the fence. The more he forced himself to focus on Tyreese clearing it rather than looking in your direction.

_Bet she feels nice._

Daryl grips the strap of his bow tighter as he chews on the inside of his cheek.

_Ya’ could pull her into that room right now if ya’ had any balls._

Another walker clings to the chains of the fence.

_Could put a hand over her mouth to stop Rick from hearin’._

Tyreese stabs it through the head with a knife.

_Hell, she probably wants ya’ to. Way she’s been glancin’ your way._

Daryl loses the war, and Tyreese finally escapes his glare so Daryl can squint out of the corner of his eye at you, trying not to be too obvious. You were still leant over the railing, looking out upon the fields. Daryl didn’t think you were watching Rick, but he wasn’t too sure as he couldn’t fully see the direction of your gaze. The one thing he was certain about was that you’d been seemingly more interested in looking at him over the last few weeks. He was sure that the looks you’d been giving him when you thought he wasn’t noticing weren’t just in his head. There was  _something_  there.

He watches you for too long, because suddenly your eyes snap towards him, forcing him to look back to the fence in a conspicuously quick sort of way. But it’s too late. You’d felt his stare, caught him, and now you were staring back. The clink of your shoes on the grating of the balcony rings in his ears as you straighten up, turning away from the view provided by the tower’s height in order to fix him with a look full of amusement. Daryl knew better than to think you’d let this go.

“You checking me out, Dixon?” it comes from you in a joking sort of way that lets him know you were teasing him like you had never had a problem doing before. But something had changed from the relaxed banter of a friendship that had blossomed in the worst of circumstances. The two of you had been dancing around this conversation for maybe even before you and Rick went your separate ways. Consciously choosing to ignore and avoid the attraction between you until was unbearable. That’s probably because it wasn’t a sweet or kind sort of attraction. This attraction was that of fire to oxygen; a burn that threatened to be all-consuming until nothing remained. Until the two of you were spent and had nothing left to give.

The way Daryl wanted you scared him, but he’d never admit that.

_I ain’t scared of nothin’._

You were making him crazy. He was losing his damn mind over a simple, teasing question at this point. Lost in a hazy insanity of lust that simply couldn’t be held back anymore. Daryl knew good and well that he couldn’t go on like he had, mentally dissecting and recording every interaction he’d had with you throughout the day in the hopes of finding some new material to get himself off to.

That’s why Daryl’s eyes slide back to you as he releases his inner cheek from his teeth’s grip, a crooked smirk curving his lips as he shoots back, “Bet you’d like that, wouldn’t ya’?” If he hadn’t been thinking about you for the past few nights—  _getting himself off to you_  for the past few nights— he’d have shocked himself at his own initiative, but Daryl had had quite enough of his lonely hand. He was ready to take the chance to replace it with yours. Whether or not that made him disloyal to Rick was ambiguous, but Daryl couldn’t deny himself any longer despite that possibility.

“A rare honor,” you let out a small, sarcastic chuckle, looking back over the railing with a hint of a blush as you continue. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen you show interest in anyone before.”

“Ain’t never had the time. Fightin’ the dead and everythin’,” Daryl states plainly, watching as your eyes flick towards the fields as you lick your lips for a brief second. The thought crosses his mind that you had just looked at Rick almost guiltily. That thought solidifies Daryl’s suspicion that you wanted  _something_  from him, too. After all, why be guilty if you didn’t?

“Oh, but you have the time, now, huh?” you were still smiling, but the same amusement that had once reached your eyes had started to fade and turn into more of a genuine curiosity as you looked back to Daryl. You wanted to know. The flick of your eyes down his neck doesn’t go unnoticed. Neither does the way your eyes darken in the very same way he’d caught them looking at him before. It caused his mind to run wild imagining exactly what you wanted.

Did you want him to hold you down? Sandwich you between himself and a hard surface with just the weight of his own body and the strength of arms trained by a crossbow? Daryl felt himself twitch in his pants.

“Caught me lookin’, didn’t you?” Daryl’s stare is intense with intent, not taking a single moment to debate acting on the lust he’d witnessed in your eyes. His tone turns almost defensive, “I ain’t gonna’ lie like some pansy and say I wasn’t.” Taking a step towards you, his eyes find Rick across the field when his voice dips to a lower tone and he states, “Caught you lookin’ a few times, too.” Rick glances over his shoulder and smiles at Daryl, sending him half a nod of recognition before turning back to the crops under his hoe. None the wiser.

Your lips part as if to say something, but the words hesitate in your throat as the cogs seem to turn in your head. What he had just laid out there was something that couldn’t be taken back, but you knew that he’d pretend he hadn’t said it if you did. Daryl was good at taking cues. He watched people. Listened to people. He’d had to all his life. That’s why he had noticed your body language. Why he was standing here now opening this door for you to walk through if you should choose.

Fact of the matter was that you didn’t want to pretend he hadn’t said it. Fact of the matter was that you were electrified by it. That the man you’d never see check anyone out before had been looking at you like  _that_? Like he was right now? It was, at least, an ego trip.

At most, it turned you on unlike anything before.

That’s why you choose to be honest, pulling his stare back to you with, “I was.” You almost shock yourself when you ask, “Do you want to see some more?” It was clear you weren’t referring to the walkers on the fence or the green of the prison fields. Daryl keeps quiet for a painful moment. He wasn’t quite sure if what he’d heard was real or not. If the question that was ringing in his ears had been a figment of his hazy mind’s imagination or if you were actually giving him that naughty smirk that was slightly obstructed by the way you’d caught your bottom lip in your teeth.

Suddenly Daryl takes a final step towards you. That’s all that’s required for him to stand directly in front of you, considering the tower’s roundabout balcony wasn’t that long on either of the four sides, anyway. Daryl reaches for you, eager to touch what he’d always thought of as forbidden— as  _Rick’s_ — for the first time. His hand scoops around your neck, pulling you closer and you stumble into his chest clumsily while at the same time he leans towards your ear, the patchy scruff you’d never seen him raise a razor to scratching your cheek faintly. God, he was so damn close that he could hear your breath hitch. Practically feel the heat radiating from your chest as your heart thundered beneath it.

This was the most alive you’d felt in months.

Daryl doesn’t need to look towards the inner room of the tower for you to know what he means when he growls, “Get your ass on in there, girl.” There was no room for debate. No hesitation in his voice. This was an order he’d just given you, plain and simple. The clarity of what was intended should you set foot in that room was crystal. It laced his voice, weighing his tone with the rumble of his throat as it projects the words towards you as if they could propel your feet forward in obedience. What Daryl planned to do needed no further explanation.

So you knew good and well what you were getting into when you did as he said. His hand slipped from you as you moved towards the room and out of his reach, sparing a tempting glance over your shoulder towards him when you went.

Daryl watches after you, gaze dark and predatory as he thinks to himself that you definitely weren’t going to be  _Rick’s girl_  any more in his mind after that little look you’d given him. It had been filled with your own form of seduction, an understanding of what the two of you were about to do and a  _want_  to do it. You wanted for him to follow you into that room and do as he pleased. Rick’s pretty little  _ex_ -girlfriend was looking at him with a look that was anything but innocent, and Daryl could hardly believe it. When he was through, that little label of  _Rick’s girl_ would be torn to shambles in his mind. Shredded and doused in gasoline and burned with his middle finger stuck up to it.

_She wants ya’ to have a taste. Right here, right now._

For once, Daryl was going to get what he wanted.

Daryl’s feet carry him after you quickly; maybe  _too_  eagerly. He’s hot on your tail as he dumps his bow from his shoulder and onto the grated flooring outside the room before his boots hit dirty cement. You turn on him at the clang it makes, but he’s got a hold of you just as quick, grip on your jaw as he smashes his lips against yours. This wasn’t a gentle kiss. It was filled with need and lust and the unfulfilled desires that Daryl had carried until this point. Open-mouthed and sloppy against your own as you kissed him back just as viciously. Those desires hadn’t been one-sided. Not by a long shot.

Daryl’s hand is a shocking contrast against your skin as he pushes against it, dipping under your shirt while at the same time walking you back further into the room until your heels meet the edge of one of the blankets. His touch is hot. Hotter than the Georgia heat that surrounded you and already had you sweating. His hands were slightly clammy due to the humidity in the air, but then again so were yours.

Instinctively, your hands reach for him. They find his hips first, your left knuckles grazing the hilt of his sheathed knife as it dangles there before they migrate upwards, grabbing and pulling him closer with every purchase they find. You feel his abdomen beneath the shirt he wore, hinting muscles against your palm as you slide your hand up his chest, moving the leather of his vest aside as it went. Your fingertips just slip over the last buttoned button at the top of his shirt, brushing the bare skin and small hairs above it when, with a nip at your bottom lip, Daryl releases you, leaving you feeling a little light-headed and dazed in the wake of his kiss.

A shiver travels down your spine to send heat pooling below the butterflies in your stomach, his name escaping you in a whimper, “Daryl.” It sounds more like a plea than anything else. An urge for him to escalate this situation further.

Daryl almost loses his damn nerve for a split second there. He’d never been the type to slam a girl down and ravage her like in some damn romance novel. Like he wanted to do to you. Daryl had  _talked_  before, all big and stupid when around his brother and his friends. Heard words thrown around with egotistical laughter about that ‘piece of ass’ or ‘bitch’ or some other unsavory term for some girl they’d been lucky enough to have and that had been stupid enough to let them. Words that Daryl couldn’t ever see describing you.

Daryl doesn’t lose his nerve.

“Raise your arms,” is all he answers you with and as soon as you do, he practically rips your shirt over your head, throwing it down at your feet. Your hands go behind your back to the clasp of your bra while he noses your jaw, causing your head to tilt and giving his lips the perfect access to your neck. They nip and kiss their way down your neck, his scruff scratching as his nose presses against your skin, his heavy breathing leaving you panting as you strugglingly remove your bra. It hits the floor just as his mouth latches to the junction of your neck and your clavicle, sending a gasp to shoot from you as Daryl smoothes a hand down your lower back and right under the fabric of both your jeans and panties to give your bare ass a firm squeeze. That earns him another squeak of his name, which only seems to spur him onward.

The world is so quiet now, that even with the sound of distant walkers’ groans and growls mingled with the living’s shouts and laughter, somehow your gasps and pants seem deafening in this tower. They sounded louder to you than they probably were in reality. Daryl’s rare growls and breathless hums against you were as clear as could be as your ears strained to hear the sounds he was making, not wanting to miss a single one.

You were flush against him, your body giving to his hands even better than he’d imagined in the privacy of his cell during the middle of the night. This tower’s room was not public, not quite private, but neither of you were stopping. Daryl’s grunt fans against your flesh as you grind reflexively on his crotch, his hand stabilizing you as he gives your ass another squeeze. You buck against him again, releasing a soft moan near his ear as your hand finds his hair, the other gripping the lean bicep at your side as you arch back into his grip. The locks that met his neck were wet with sweat, a dampness throughout his scalp thanks to how long he’d already been working today. Neither of you were free from it, your own brow littered with the salty perspiration that seemed to cling in this heat. Daryl’s hand slips from your pants as he leans away from you to get a direct look at your naked breasts, causing your grip in his hair to slip to his neck as he pulls back.

“Shit, girl,” comes from him appreciatively and the blush that erupts across your skin is one to rival his own. The both of you were wired with the adrenaline and the blood pumping through your veins, a cloud of lust hazing your thoughts and creating a tunnel-vision towards one goal.

Your hands lunge for his belt, pulling him back to you by angled hips as you work with it to get him undone, enjoying the fact that you seemed to have him entranced, “See something you like?”

Daryl lets himself smile lopsidedly at your question before he reaches for you once again, kneading your breasts, his thumbs smoothing over your nipples before he moves downwards, “Ya’ gotta’ ask? Look at you.” His touch smoothes over your skin, traversing the curves of your body as if mapping out something he planned to return to later, “Ya’ know exactly what you’re doin’ to me?”

You have him unbuckled and unzipped when one of his hands snap you back by a surprisingly rough grip you suddenly found in your hair, “Ah! What—?”

“Take off them jeans and get on the bed,” Daryl growls before releasing you. You scramble back so obediently. It’s like he blinks and you’re on the mattress, kicking those jeans that had hugged you so perfectly away. His belt clinks as he steps towards you before kneeling down on the mattress as he enjoys his view. The bizarre beauty of the prison’s fields couldn’t compare to the sight he had right now. You sitting there, red up to your ears, in only those panties. Legs spread for him.

“Daryl,” you whine as his fingers touch your ankle, brushing as they side up your legs, undeterred by the hair that had settled there. Your voice held a hint of annoyance and insistence; you were rushing him, “Come  _on_.” His eyes positively sparkle in amusement. Something you’d never thought you’d see on him.

“I ain’t even got started with you yet,“ you can feel your breath catch in your throat at his words as his hands find their grip behind your knees before he gives you a rough tug towards him, forcing you down the mattress until you could feel the tops of his thighs beneath yours. Daryl was between your legs, leant over you as he devoured your neck, fingertips brushing beneath your breast as his hand splayed over the bottom of your ribcage to hold you down as you squirmed beneath his touch. He rocked his hips into yours and you met him with your own jut of your hips, feeling the weighted press of his dick against your crotch, separated only by the worn fabric of the clothing between you. You arch into him, aching for any form of friction, even if that meant he dry humped you into the mattress. Your needy body language doesn’t go unsatisfied for long, because at the second curve of your hips into his, his hand slips down your stomach to dive into your panties, the added area of his hand straining the elastic there.

Daryl slips a finger into your folds as his tongue draws along the side of your neck, his teeth occasionally joining it in a grazing fashion before he grunts, “How long ya’ been wet like this? Hm?” Guiding his finger back up to your clit, he takes some of your wetness with it as it draws sharp circles there, making you gasp out in his grip. “Did ya’ get this wet for me?”

“Yeah, Daryl, just for you,” you moan as he looks between you to watch as his fingers work you over, focusing solely on your clit in an intense press before he slides his hand back down to slip his middle finger into you. You feel your muscles clamp around his finger before you relax again, feeling him curve his hand to thrust it in and out with increasing speed until he sets a pace that has you writhing under him, your hands gripping in the center of the wings at his back as he adds a second finger to the first. His thumb presses at your clit, circling it in time with his fingers’ thrusts. This boy who’d never left Georgia had learned  _something_ somewhere.

 Daryl watches as you clamp your eyes shut in pleasure, the walls around his fingers moving erratically as he eagerly draws out your orgasm, not stopping his motions until you were gasping out for him, “ _Fuck_ , Daryl,  _shit_ , Daryl—!” He swallows your moans with a sloppy kiss when he retracts his hand to slip from the front of the panties that were now soaked with your wetness and the sweat of your inner thighs.

Daryl looks almost pained as he croaks upon releasing your lips, his own still close enough to brush against them, “ _Damn_ , girl—” He gets no further, breaking off in a hiss as your hand reaches to pull him out of the pants that still hung at his hips. His length feels heavy in your hand as you curl your hand around him, giving him a few experimental strokes as you watch his face for reaction. Daryl’s lips were parted, allowing him to pant a little as he watches you cautiously, though his hips move into your hand instinctively. A sheen of sweat has already covered the both of you, the smell of sex lacing the air along with the cigarette he’d smoked earlier in the day. That smell was starting to rub off on you.

“Get off me,” now it’s your turn to order him around, getting a raised brow of question in return as he starts to do as you say, worry flashing in his eyes as he wonders if he’s gone too far with you. You sooth his worries as you clarify, “Sit back.”

“Ya’ gonna’ get on top of me, girl?” Daryl shoots with a smirk when he realizes you weren’t upset with him. That there’s no way in hell you’re ending this yet. As he leans back, you move forward, never really out of contact as you move almost fluidly together. You watch as his length rests, hard and desperate, against his thigh before you get between them. You find yourself lost in the view for a moment before he spurs you on with, “C’mere.”

You reach for him once again, taking his length as you bend your head near it, and suddenly he knows exactly what you plan to do. Daryl feels his hips raise up off the mattress and towards you out of anticipation. How many times had he imagined just this moment? None of them came close to right now as your eyes flashed back up to his mischievously. Knowing exactly the power you held over him as your lips curled back to reveal a grin that disappears as your tongue swipes from his base to his tip, nose grazing against him when you slide back down with your lips latched to the side of his dick.

“(Y/N),” Daryl grunts as his hand automatically goes to your hair, finding a grip that doesn’t force you to alter your pace. It was more of just him finding something to hold onto as his eyes look down at you, lidded with lust as he bites his inner cheek to keep himself relatively quiet. The sight of you, between his legs with your lips wrapping around his dick— it was probably the most erotic thing he’d ever seen.

Your hand smoothes along the bare skin of his pelvis as you sink down on him, tongue swirling around him as you went. On your way back up, you hollow out your cheeks and hum, getting a strangled noise from Daryl as his head falls back to rest between his shoulders. When you glance back up, his mouth was open in a quiet ‘o’ before he moans low and deep, hips reflexively thrusting into your mouth before he pulls you off of him by the hair to throw you back on the mattress.

You gasp as your back hits and he’s on you, sliding his length through your folds through the thigh of your panties as he gripped them to the side. The worn elastic strains and you hear it snap in his grip, but you hardly care as you arch against him.

Daryl didn’t remove anything else, giving you a single glance before he enters you, bottoming out almost immediately. Your head falls back onto the mattress, hands grabbing at anything you could hold onto. The blankets, his vest, his arm. Daryl doesn’t go slow. Doesn’t build up to anything. He sets a cruel pace to begin with, pounding into you harshly under him as you get hardly any time to adjust.

For a moment he feels you freeze up and panics that he’s hurt you in his own selfishness, but then you let out a shuddering gasp and press back against him as a moan escapes you, “Daryl,  _fuck me_.”

Daryl can’t get you to shut up after that. With each thrust you jolt against him, letting out gasps, moans, whimpers— so much so that he actually does worry someone will hear. Will come up to make sure the two of you were alright only to find him balls-deep inside you and the worst part of that scenario is that he wouldn’t stop. He would keep going. Even if it was Rick who walked in on you.

“(Y/N),” he groans out, breathless and panting as his pace doesn’t slow. Watching you become a mess under him as he becomes just as equally destroyed over you. Daryl hisses, “Shut up!” It’s not malicious; it’s worried.

“I— God,” you gasp, unable to do much more than nod as you bite your lip to swallow the moan he gets from you. You felt so  _full_  with him inside you. Needing him in a way that can only be explained as animalistic. A moan bursts from you, unkept as he licks his fingers to bring them to your connection, pressing them against your clit.

Daryl tells you to shut up then does  _that_. You couldn’t believe it.

"Shut up, or do you want Rick to hear?” he repeats with a growl and the hand that wasn’t between your legs getting you off reaches for your mouth, covering it. Your hips snap against his at the question, and you can’t help but feel mortified that the possibility of getting caught turns you on a little bit. You reach up to grab his forearm with both hands, looking him straight in the eye as you moan against his hand. It muffles you well enough, but you see just how fucked up it gets him by the look in his eyes and the stutter of his hips mid-thrust. Daryl gasps out in a moan quieter than yours had been, sweat falling down his jaw and onto your chest as he recognizes the way your body had reacted, “He’s just out in the field. If ya’ keep on being so damn loud, he’ll hear ya’. Want Rick to know I’ve got ya’ on this mattress right now? While we’re supposed to be on lookout?” Daryl feels you shudder under him as another hum vibrates against his hand. He flicks his thumb against your clit as his thighs slap against yours and he continues lowly, “Want him to know how ya’ had my dick in your mouth just a little bit ago?” Daryl bottoms out once again as he growls, “Want him to know how I’m fixin’ to make ya’ cum?”

Your fingernails grip into his forearm as your thighs shake when he grinds against you, his questions bringing you over the edge as he fucks you into the mattress. The toe-curling orgasm wracks through you, your walls spasming erratically around him as you struggle to breathe against his hand over your mouth to keep you from screaming out. Immediately after, he pulls out, releasing his grip on your mouth to leave you panting as he gives himself two strokes before spilling against your thigh, the head of his dick grazing there as he nearly collapses only to catch himself before he does.

“Daryl,” you croak between gasps and little whimpers of the aftermath of your orgasm, him still sitting between your thighs as he caught his own breath. All you can say is, “Holy shit.”

Daryl looks down at you, licking his lips at the sight of you post-orgasm before placing a quick kiss to the side of your lips. He quickly puts himself back together and zips up before throwing you your clothes that you gesture weakly towards. If at least one of the two of you didn’t get back to work quick, someone was bound to get suspicious. He watches as you throw back on your top and bra, but furrows his brow as you remove your panties before beginning to pull back on your jeans.

“The hell you doin’?” he remarks with a crooked smile as you glance back towards him to give him a wink.

You move towards him, tucking the cotton fabric into the pocket of his pants before you remark, “You can give them back to me later tonight.”

As Daryl watches you pick back up your gun to head out onto the tower’s balcony, he can’t help his scoff of a chuckle as his fingers reflexively reach into his pocket to ghost over the reminder of what you’d just done.

_She ain’t Rick’s girl no more._


End file.
